“Asshole didn’t even tell me he was back. Did he just want to spend alone time with you or something?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. And then I cry. Something else I have absolutely no control over.

He settles his hands on my shoulders as he dips his head, his eyes right on mine. “Are you okay, Ry?”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“You don’t seem fine.”

I wipe my eyes and take a breath. And then another. Looking for the strength that’s not-so-slowly diminishing. “I’m okay. Really.” I point to the boxes by my feet and release another lie. “It’s just overwhelming. I’m trying to grasp how I’m going to build all this and remove the other one and I don’t know…” I scratch my head and look back up at Jake. “I just want to make him happy. That’s all.”

He tilts his head, as if searching for my hidden meaning. He won’t find it. It’s the only piece of truth I’ve voiced since he’s been back. I do want to make him happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

“I can call the guys to come and help if they’re around. I know Cam’s here. He might be able to get one of Lucy’s dad’s workers and we can get it done in no time.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “That’d be good.”

Jake gets on the phone and fifteen minutes later, Cameron shows up with Lucas—Jeremy’s friend from high school and Cam’s brother-in-law.

“I brought a professional,” Cam says, tapping the back of his hand on Lucas’s chest as they walk up the driveway.

“That’s good,” Jake says to me, “I’m good at lifting heavy shit, Cameron’s good at designing it, but neither of us are great with tools. That was always—”

“Dylan,” I cut in, and Jake and Cam instinctively bow their heads.

“’Sup, Hudson,” Lucas says, nodding in greeting.

“So you know what you’re doing?” I ask, shuffling on my feet.

He nods again. “Yep. I’m working construction full time for the old man now.”

“And me!” Cam says, pointing to himself. “I’m his boss.”

“Fuck off.”

“You’re fired!” Cam booms.

Lucas picks up his tools he’d just set on the floor and spins around. “Laters!”

“No!” I yell. “I need your help.”

He turns around, his smile wide. “I’ll do it for you, Hudson. I owe you this much.”

I drop my gaze at the memory of Jeremy he instantly invokes in me. Another sob rises from the pit of my stomach, catching in my throat before it leaves me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m fine… just…”

“Jeremy?” he asks.

I nod. “Jeremy.” I don’t know why I’m thinking about Jeremy the way I am. Why I suddenly find myself missing him the way I do.

Jake clears his throat. “So how long do we have until D gets home? You want it to be a surprise, right?”

“He won’t be home tonight,” I let slip, but don’t bother to right my wrong.

“Where is he?” Cameron asks.

I look up, three sets of eyes on me—their expressions matching that of Dylan’s family as I stood in their hallway. They look worried. I am worried. I don’t know what to say, so I give them a half truth. It’s better than the constant lies falling from my lips. “I think he just needed to get away for the night.”

It doesn’t take them long to demolish the old bench and put the new one up, and it’s only when I see it in pieces on the back of both Jake and Lucas’s truck as they drive away that I realize I’ve made a mistake. Dylan has a personal attachment to that bench—the years and years he spent working on it and I just took it away. He won’t see the good I’d tried to do… he’ll only see the bad.

He only ever sees the bad now.

I curse under my breath, already fearing his response. And of all the emotions that could possibly lead me to what I do next, fear is the greatest one.

Dylan

Riley’s calling.

I don’t know why she’s calling.

I ignore the call only for it to ring again. And again.

Then a text comes through.

Riley: I’ve been pulled over. The brake lights were out, I guess, and it’s registered under your name. The officer asked you to come and bring some identification.

I sit on the edge of the hotel bed and check the time. It’s nine at night. I don’t know if I’ve slept or if I’ve just been in a daze but last I knew it was light out. I call her back, but I don’t speak.

“Dylan?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

I grab the beer sitting on my nightstand and take a few sips. “Where are you?”

She gives me her location and I take another sip. Then I dress, grab my keys and go to her.

She’s not hard to find, the flashing lights of the police car give her away. I park behind both cars and get out, pulling out my wallet as I walk toward them. A part of me is angry she’s driving without brake lights, not just because it’s fucking dangerous, but because I’d specifically asked Dad to take care of that shit because I knew she wouldn’t.

She’s still sitting behind the driver’s seat and when I walk up, the officer turns to me, aiming his flashlight in my eyes. “You’re the owner of this vehicle?” he asks. He’s my dad’s age, same build, no beard.